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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644871">you're never a chore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf'>asexuelf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Month of Salentine's [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sally Face (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Established Relationship, Love, M/M, Set Around Episode 4, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Sal Fisher, Therapy, Travis Phelps Has Low Self-Esteem, my 50th salvis fic!! :D</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:36:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The bell on his bike doesn't ring anymore.</p>
<p>OR; In which Travis asks for help and Sal provides.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sal Fisher/Travis Phelps</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Month of Salentine's [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you're never a chore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>MY 50TH SALVIS FIC! 🎉 WOOOO!</p>
<p>i've never posted 50 fics for a fandom before... how exciting!! 💖 thank you to everybody who's been reading and kudos-ing and commenting!! we poppin the biggest bottles (of crystal pepsi)</p>
<p>warnings included for this one are: suicidal ideation, poor mental health, low self-esteem... and lots of love</p>
<p>i hope you enjoy! 💖</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The bell on his bike doesn't ring anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's so rusty and pitiful that the little arm he pulls to make it ring goes slow, like a leg dragging through water, and then whatever's supposed to happen inside to make it </span>
  <em>
    <span>drring!</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he lets go just doesn't. It doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>work.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis knows he can just remove the bell, maybe even get a new one. It would make the most sense. He's a sensible guy, kind of, occasionally, when he wants to be. After so many years together, though, it seems wrong to remove the bell; for some reason, it's akin to removing a dead guy's picture from the picture frame. It just feels… wrong. Not done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Call it superstition, call it sentiment, but he can't do it. He can't replace the damn thing no matter how broken he knows it is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, here he is, staring sadly at his little broken bell as he straddles his ugly old bike. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bike is an embarrassment too. It's fugly and more than a bit too small, being from his middle school days. He wants to get a drivers' license and turn it in for good in place of a genuine motorized vehicle, but it just doesn't seem wise to put a suicidal person in control of a speeding hunk of metal, let alone one full of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking gasoline</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It's a bit like kicking the pocket knife out of your would-be murderer's hand only to hand them your chainsaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has to get better first - for himself and for the good people around him. A suicide is never just one casualty, especially on the road. He has to get better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He has to get better.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, he rides his bike to therapy like a loser every Tuesday. By the time he gets there, he's always sweaty, even when it's cold outside, because biking is fucking hard when the thing's so goddamn small, and way too anxious about whether he smells bad or not to pay attention to the therapeutic healing that's meant to be happening at his appointment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposes he could ask for a ride from Neil, but he doesn't think his pride could take it. He can handle riding around an embarrassingly shitty old bike and smelling like a sewer full of onions, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>asking for a ride to therapy</span>
  </em>
  <span> sounds worse than going to therapy at all. At that point, he'd just quit going altogether.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least, he'd consider it. The same way he considers throwing out the old bell. The same way he considers getting a car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But, damn it, just thinking of the look on Sal's face, knowing how disappointed he'd be… And the gentle care he'd shown when he asked Travis to </span>
  <em>
    <span>please, morning star, just consider it, it could help you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that first day he and Travis had discussed seeing a shrink… He knows he can't give up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He has to get better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets off his bike. There's no way he'll be able to make his appointment on his own today. His brain has been like this all day, throwing sad thoughts in the way of his normal routine like secret notes glued between the pages of an old book, hidden writing that screams </span>
  <em>
    <span>FEEL BAD, FEEL BAD, FEEL BAD! </span>
  </em>
  <span>in invisible ink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ink is poisoned. He doesn't want to ask Neil for a ride.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a sigh, he takes his phone out of his pocket. It's a hefty little thing, a dark navy color, and when he flips it open, it feels good to do it, even as anxiety gnaws its way through his gut. He struggles to dial Sal's number on the tiny keys with his shaking fingers, but eventually manages it, bringing the phone to his ear and waiting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Brring. Brring. Brring.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sounds almost remind him of Gizmo's purrs, only much worse in his ear. He wishes he was inside. Petting Gizmo is just therapy but free.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Travis almost hangs up, certain Sal's busy with class, why are you bothering him, he doesn't want to talk to you, but his boyfriend's familiarly deep voice buzzes through just before he punches the red button.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Travis? Are you okay?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He huffs a laugh. "Sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry." He doesn't mean to apologize, but it comes out somehow. Twice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now Sal sounds really scared. "What happened? Are you hurt?!" Rustling on the other end, the sound of his breathing close to the phone. "Did you- Did you hurt-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No! No, shit. Jesus. Sorry. I just- I don't want to go to therapy alone and I was wondering if maybe, if you had time, or, fuck- I know you have class, obviously, but-"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Babe, fuck class! I've gone to every lecture so far and I can always tell my professor that something came up. I can get notes from a classmate. It's okay." There's a shuffle, the crackling of movement making Travis wince. "No apologies, Travis. None."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...So you'll come with me?" He hates how much he sounds like a kid. Then again, he never got to sound like this as a kid, did he? Maybe he's playing catch up and he doesn't even know it half the time. He should probably mention that in therapy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course I will, morning star." Laughter drifts through the receiver, disbelieving and amazed. "Travis, I'm really proud of you. Thank you for asking me. Thank you so much for reaching out. You're doing really well."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost wants to snort and say something derisive just to be difficult. He finds, suddenly, that he doesn't have it in himself to be nasty. Not about this. Not to his Sally. A smile tugs at his mouth and he lets it take shape the way it's meant to. "Okay, Sally. I'll believe you this time."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can hear Sal's grin through the phone. "Do you wanna call a taxi? Or something else?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, I can do that." Travis takes a deep breath, but it makes his lungs feel cold and terrible. Dread hangs in the pit of his stomach for no discernable reason. "Shit. Nevermind. I can't do that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"That's okay. How about I bike over and I ask Neil to give us a ride?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That rankles Travis' pride much less. If Travis does it, it's humiliating. If Sal does it, it can only be right. Everything Sal does is right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should probably mention that in therapy too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Okay," he says. "Are you gonna be alright biking alone?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course. We can stay on the phone if you want? I want you to feel safe. I know this is hard, but you aren't alone."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"...Thank you, Sal."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Of course. It's you and me, Travis. I love you."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Warmth fills him, like a blanket suddenly securely wrapped around him. "I love you too."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes he wonders if he's the bell and Sal's the thing inside that makes it ring. It certainly feels that way.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading!! 💖</p>
<p>p.s. YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE BY VIRTUE OF BEING! 🎉 never be afraid to ask for help. you're worthy of it. you don't need to earn it. you deserve to be okay and it's okay if you aren't. it may not feel okay, but you are no grand evil. you are a living, breathing, lovely person, and you are worthy.</p>
<p>i hope to see you in the next one! so stick around, okay? 💖</p></blockquote></div></div>
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